


The First (A Clandestine Drabble)

by ditzymax



Series: Clandestine Drabbles [1]
Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Blood, Brother/Sister Incest, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Domestic Violence, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Murder, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV First Person, POV Male Character, Sex between Minors, Smut, Twincest, Violence, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 15:57:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14772683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ditzymax/pseuds/ditzymax
Summary: Taehyung has had enough of his abusive father and takes drastic measures to put an end to the abuse once and for all.





	The First (A Clandestine Drabble)

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings & Features: profanity; mentions of hard and recreational drug usage; mentions of neglect; brief degrading dialogue/name-calling; instances of domestic abuse, violence, and murder; mentions of blood; EXPLICIT INCEST; graphic sexual content (sex between minors, unprotected penetrative sex)
> 
> Author's Note: This is something extra I felt like writing and sharing for the Clandestine "universe". It is not necessary to read this in order to understand the main story, but I do recommend reading at least the first three chapters of the main story if you care for a deeper understanding of this drabble.
> 
> (This takes place 13-14 years before the events of the main Clandestine story.)

##  **【Taehyung's POV】**

The steady  _tap-tap-tap_ ping of the dull razor against my nightstand is oddly satisfying. Therapeutic, almost. I keep at it until the illicit white powder is fine enough to be inhaled, then separate it into two thin, even lines - one for myself, one for Kinsoo.

But she is not here at the moment.

I consider snorting my half of the coke without her, but I suppose the polite thing to do would be to wait for her.  _She_  was the one who went through the trouble of nicking the genuine Rolex off some prick lawyer near the subway to trade to our dealer, after all.

Not that it was particularly troublesome for her. All she had to do was bat her eyelashes, flaunt her budding breasts, and ask him for directions she didn’t need in her most honeyed tone. While the perv was wondering if she was at least the legal age of consent, her nimble fingers slipped the watch from his wrist with practiced care. Easy peasy.

I pull the hood of my jacket over my head and exit my bedroom, then grimace when I step into the hallway and see a stain on the wall opposite me; it looks new. Courtesy of my father, no doubt. Could be beer, could be whiskey. At least it goes well with the unsightly scuff marks and the chips in the off-white paint.

The ever-present scents of tobacco smoke, cheap food, and my mother’s gratuitous perfume hang in the air. They sicken me, but not so much physically as they do emotionally. If my parents spent half as much money on Kinsoo and I as they do on their vices and frivolous little “luxuries” - if they showed us even an  _ounce_  of attention that was not in the form of a slap or a grunted word or a look of resentment - perhaps we would not feel compelled to steal from others and partake in illegal substances the way we do.

Yet this is the life we have been handed, and Kinsoo and I handle it in the ways we deem best for our peace of mind, morals be damned.

I shuffle my feet along the ruddy carpet towards my sister’s room. The door is slightly ajar, and I push it open further without knocking, only to discover she is not in here, either. Her coat and a pair of sneakers are discarded carelessly on the floor, but otherwise the small room is tidy. I pick them up and store them away in her closet before leaving to continue my search.

I head down the hall to the living room where the stench of smoke is strongest. The couch in the center is threadbare in spots, and the shabby recliner in the corner is permanently indented with the shape of my father from many a night of passing out in it. The television is droning on quietly, but nobody is here watching it, so I turn it off.

I step into the kitchen next. The stove is laden with grease spots from the rare occurrences of my mother’s cooking over the years. Dirty dishes are piled up in the sink that has started to crust with rust. The trash bin is overflowing, primarily with beer bottles and cans. Takeout menus are held by magnets against the refrigerator where our childhood artwork was never displayed.

I know my mother’s shift at work is not due to end until late tonight, and my father is probably down at the corner convenience store picking up more booze and cigarettes, but where is my sister?

“Kiki?” I call out.

Her reply is immediate and a little muffled. “I’m down here, Tae!”

My eyes swivel over to the door in the kitchen that leads to the basement. It is partially cracked. I pull it open and tread down the creaky wooden steps until I hit the concrete floor at the bottom. The chill of it seeps through my thin socks. In the corner, I see Kinsoo crouched over something that must be interesting.

“What are you doing down here?” I ask her, jamming my hands into the pockets of my jeans to hide them away from the prematurely frigid October air.

She turns to face me with a bright smile on her face, the one reserved for me. It touches her pretty green eyes to make them glow.

“Look, Tae,” she says in a hushed but excited tone, and I take notice of the bundle of orange fur cradled in her arms. “I heard this poor little guy crying down here. He must’ve gotten in through one of the windows, the clever thing. Must be too cold outside for him.”

The tabby cat peers at me with solemn amber eyes, and I can hear it purring softly.

“He’s cute,” I admit. I reach out to scratch his head, and he leans into my touch gratefully. His fur is scratchy and matted in several places.

“Do you think we could keep him?”

I hold a blink for a couple extra seconds to hide my eyeroll. “Kiki…”

“I mean, I’m not gonna ask Mom and Dad,” she clarifies quickly. “I’m not  _stupid_. But do you think we could hide him down here and take care of him, at least through the winter?”

“No, I don’t,” I sigh. “Cats are mischievous and he’d probably get into trouble just as easily as he got into the house. We wouldn’t be able to keep him a secret for very long.”

“We keep other things secret all the time,” she argues stubbornly.

I can’t help but crack a smile. “Yeah, but Kinsoo, drugs and theft and vandalism aren’t live animals that need to be watched over all the time. I just don’t see how it could work.”

She pouts heavily at me. “I want to help him, though.”

 _I wish we could_. I wish my sister could have and do anything her heart desires without having it taken away or scoffed at for some bullshit reason.

When we were seven, we begged our parents for a dog, a cat, or even just a lousy little hamster. Our mother immediately dismissed us and said to ask our father, and our father told us that he  _“wasn’t going to spend one extra goddamn cent on a pet when he already has two ungrateful kids to house and feed.”_

Her indifference and his contempt resonated with Kinsoo and I. The ones who are supposed to protect and support and love us unconditionally only hit and shun and belittle us. Some people just aren’t fit to be parents and raise children.

But at least my twin and I have each other.

It is almost overwhelming sometimes how comfortable I am with her and how much she means to me.  _She_  is the one who protects, supports, and loves me without boundaries, and I am forever grateful to her. I have been wondering lately if  _each other_  is all we will ever really have in this big, wide, ugly world. That thought doesn’t sound too bad, really.

I cup my hands gently around her shoulders and say, “And I’m telling you we can’t, sis.”

I expect her to resist at least one more time, but she deflates under my touch.

“Fine, fine,” she relents. “I hate when you’re right, but you are. Mom and Dad would never-”

Before she can tack something else on the laundry list of things our parents would never do, the sound of pounding footsteps overhead startles us.

_Dad’s home._

“ _Shit_ ,” Kinsoo curses. She gives the cat one last hug then says to me, “Quick, Tae, hold that window open up there so we can get this guy out of here before Dad sees.”

I do as she says, stretching on my legs to hold open the window above us so she can push the cat up and out of it. He clings to her sweatshirt for a second before she is able to peel him off and shove him back to where he would end up anyway if either of our parents were to find him here. I let the window swing closed behind him, but he makes no move to leave. Instead, he scratches at the glass indignantly. I latch it securely.

When I turn back around, Kinsoo takes my hand and leads me back to the stairs. We wait for a moment at the base to gauge where our father is now. Judging by the consistency of the floorboard creaks under the weight of his feet, he does not seem to be  _staggeringly_  drunk. Partial sobriety will not stop him from being an asshole, though.

We wait for the footsteps to migrate to a different room and fade away before we creep up the steps and back into the kitchen.

_Creeping… in our own fucking house…_

It is sickening in every way.

Kinsoo and I only make it to the threshold of the living room before we are caught.

“‘Ey! Where you been?”

We turn in unison to face our father. His eyes are a little red-rimmed. His mouth is a hard line. His chin is stubbled from going a few too many days without shaving. He smells of sweat. A customary bottle of beer is gripped loosely in one of his hands.

“Just the basement,” is Kinsoo’s curt response.

“‘Just the basement’?” he echoes with a tilt of his head. “The hell’s down  _there_  that you two are so interested in?”

“Nothing,” is Kinsoo’s follow up answer.

“Bullshit,” barks our father. He waves the bottle towards the basement door and asks, “Is that where you’re hiding your pot stash? Don’t think I didn’t smell it in the house the other day. You probably think you’re  _so sneaky_ , don’t you, you little bitch?”

Kinsoo’s nostrils flare in a telling display of thinking about doing or saying something rash. I hurry to curve an arm around her and step in front of her while still facing our father.

“You can’t talk to her that way,” I grit tersely, daring to meet his eyes.

He blinks slowly at me a few times as his muddled mind processes my words. Then he says, “You want to run that by me again, boy?”

“Don’t, Tae,” whispers Kinsoo from behind me. “It’s not worth it.”

What she means is it’s not worth the split lip, or the black eye, or the sore ribs. Whatever punishment is deemed fit for back-talking.

I briefly turn my head to the side to let her know I heard her, but continue speaking to our father anyway. “I  _said_ , you can’t talk to her that way,” I repeat louder.

A muscle jumps in his jaw when he clenches his teeth. “I’m your goddamn  _father_. I can talk to her - and to  _you_  - however the fuck I want. I can  _do_  whatever the fuck I want, too, and that includes dragging your bitch sister down to the basement so she can show me where she’s hiding the goddamn weed in  _my_  fucking house.” 

With that, he closes the space between us in two menacing steps and shoves me aside to get to Kinsoo. He yanks her wrist in his free hand and drags her off. Her squeak of pain and fright is barely audible. Our father rarely strikes her the way he does my mother and me - I have only seen him hit Kinsoo a total of three times - but he does enjoy rough-handling her like this.

I try to latch on to my sister’s other hand, but she slips away from me as she stumbles after our father in the furious pace he has set. I follow behind them.

“Well?” he shouts expectantly when we reach the basement floor. He flings Kinsoo away from him, but she keeps her footing. “Go ahead and show me where it is, sneaky bitch.”

“Dad, stop it,” she mutters under her breath, automatically rubbing her sore wrist with her other hand.

He doesn’t seem to have a problem hearing her. “You want to sass me, too, huh? That’s not how things work under my roof. If you act like a cunt, there  _will_  be consequences.”

To prove his point, he hurls his beer bottle towards her. She sidesteps the pitch and the glass shatters near her feet. Our father growls in aggravation over his missed strike and moves to grab her again. She barely darts away from his reaching fingers in time and retreats to the other side of the basement, but there is nowhere to hide.

It is a scene that will no doubt play out again and again as long as we are living under his roof. Maybe not in this exact way, but some version of it. Our father will get triggered by some little thing - or sometimes nothing at all - and the rest of us have to suffer his unending wrath.

I have to do something to help Kinsoo. Something drastic, something bold. Something  _now_.

Enough is enough.

With those thoughts in mind and a red haze clouding the edges of my vision, I swiftly retrieve the biggest piece of the broken bottle I can find and move to block my father’s way. Before he can say a single word more, I slice the makeshift weapon through the air as forcefully as I can, and my vision of red intensifies as a warm spray splatters my face and clothes.

My father’s hands fly up to clutch his sliced throat. His eyes are wide with fear and he staggers back several steps. The sight gives me a greater high than the cocaine upstairs in my bedroom could achieve.

I stalk after him and thrust the glass into his stomach next. His fingers grab my wrist defensively, but his grip is weak. Blood is pouring down from his open neck. Blood is seeping from the wound in his gut. It tickles my fingers, and I almost laugh aloud.

I draw my hand back only to return it to another spot on his abdomen with greater force. His legs buckle and he kneels down in front of me. I crouch with him and stab him again. He tips onto his back. I stab him again. He coughs another spray of blood. I stab him again. However many times I stab him is not enough to pay him back for nearly sixteen years of torment.

But I do it again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Until I lose count.

Until my father is no longer moving, no longer wheezing.

And I do it again.

I keep raising and lowering my arm with the intent of going until every ounce of anger has been released from me, but Kinsoo’s hands come out of nowhere to wrap around me. The broken bottle drops from my blood-soaked hand and onto our father’s lifeless body. 

My twin is murmuring to me, cooing at me, but I cannot make out her words over the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears. She eases me around to face her and sits on the ground with me. She cups my face in her hands, heedless of the mess covering it. The hood of my jacket falls away from my head when she runs her fingers through my hair. I lean towards her, drawn in by her tenderness, and she holds my head against her chest.

My anger wells up in the form of tears now. They stream down my cheeks to carve paths in the blood. Trembles wrack my body, and I cling to Kinsoo tightly to steady myself. I can feel her shuddering and I realize she is crying, too, which only makes me sob harder. 

I am still shaking when Kinsoo urges me to my feet. My legs feel numb as I rise. She wraps an arm around my waist and leads me upstairs with slow, careful steps.

We drag our feet through the kitchen, through the living room, through the hallway towards the bathroom. I realize she is helping me, as she always does. My gratitude towards her swells and compels me to stop in my tracks and take  _her_  face in  _my_  hands now.

Kinsoo meets my gaze steadily. There is no fear in her eyes. No concern. No confusion. No judgement. And there is none in me, either. She is the only person who understands me, the only person I trust, the only person I love.

I lean towards her again and press my lips to hers without hesitation. I keep my eyes open, but she closes hers and kisses me back immediately. Her tongue pokes at my lips and I let it into my mouth to meet mine. We tilt our faces to better mould our lips together. Each undulation of our jaws sets a spark to a feeling inside me that has always been there but never surfaced.

Kinsoo takes a step closer to close the rest of the meager distance between us and fully press herself against me. If there ever  _had_  been any doubts in my mind as to her feelings for me, they would have been abolished entirely in this moment.

“Tae…” she whispers against my lips as her eyes flutter open. She takes both my gorey hands in hers and pulls me not into the bathroom, but into her bedroom.

She shuts the door behind us and goes to sit on the edge of the bed. I remain by the door until she pats the spot beside her invitingly, leaving a bloody handprint behind. I take a seat and we face each other, studying each other silently. Her face has some blood smeared on it now, too, but she is beautiful.

After a moment, Kinsoo lifts her sweatshirt over her head and drops it to the floor. I follow suit and shrug out of my jacket, then tug off my t-shirt. She takes a second to look at my bare chest before she unclasps her bra and lets it fall away. Her nipples are pink and stiff, and I realize my cock is painfully stiff, too.

My sister stands back up and pulls me with her. Then she unbuttons and unzips my jeans to slide them down my legs, crouching as she goes. I kick them off my feet just before she removes my socks as well. After those are gone, she reaches up and tugs on the band of my boxers, carefully maneuvering the fabric around my erection. When I am fully naked, she takes her time moving to stand up straight, letting her eyes take in every inch of my body.

Only when her eyes return to mine do I proceed to remove her own remaining clothing. I mimic her previous actions exactly, squatting down as I drag her leggings off of her and slip off her socks. Her panties soon follow, and she steps out of them daintily. I can’t help but to observe her nudity with my hands as well as my eyes on my way back up. I run them lightly over her feet, up her calves, over her thighs, along her hips, around her buttocks, and across her ribs, unintentionally painting her skin with my red-stained fingers as I go.

It has been years since we have seen each other’s naked bodies. She did not have a thatch of hair between her legs the last time I saw her like this. When we were young children, we would bathe together, but after those years I have only ever seen her in towels or occasionally pantless. It feels liberating to stand bare before each other again.

It feels comfortable.

Kinsoo initiates the kiss this time and increases the fervor. Her arms circle around my neck, and I wrap mine around her waist. We fall onto our sides against the mattress and tangle our legs in each other’s to pull ourselves even closer. She whimpers softly into my mouth, and I reciprocate with a low moan.

She soon rolls on top of me, and my dick becomes wedged between my stomach and her center. She rubs her hands over my shoulders and chest, and I realize I am panting. Her fingers trail down my stomach until they meet the head of my cock, at which point my breathing comes to a halt. She scoots further down to better palm my pulsing length, but she only gets a few passes in before I sit up and flip her over onto her back.

I settle over her, resting my forearms on either side of her. Her dark hair fans out on the pillow beneath her. Her green eyes are looking at my lips, so I kiss hers, and then her chin, and then her throat. She sighs in pleasure.

“Tae…” she whispers again. “Please…” Her hands press against the small of my back and she arches her own. I groan at her desire. My skin is tingling and my dick feels like it may just explode if I do not contain it - preferably by sheathing it inside of her. But there is a problem.

“I don’t have a condom, Kiki,” I regretfully mutter against her skin.

She takes my sticky chin between her fingers and says, “It’s okay. I have a ‘morning after’ pill. Please, Tae, I want to feel you so badly.”

That is all the coaxing I need to line up with her entrance and begin to push inside. Kinsoo sucks in a breath and holds it as the head of my cock eases its way into her warm pussy - my first pussy ever. I continue the plunge until I am sure I have broken through the thin barrier inside her that symbolizes her own virginity. The vice grip her walls have on my dick is nearly painful, the fit is so tight, but at the same time it feels like heaven. She does not feel very wet, only a little damp, but the whine she releases when I finally bottom out is a sound of bliss, not pain.

Kinsoo’s lips twitch in a faint smile. “It… feels so good to have you inside me,” she confesses.

I smile back. “It feels so good to  _be_  inside you,” I agree.

She hums and captures my lips with hers. I kiss her back hungrily, thrilled by this new experience with her.

When she pulls back and nods her head, I understand it as permission to begin moving. I withdraw my hips then roll them slowly into her again. After the third time, she rocks up to meet me.

“Keep going, just like that,” she urges. “Don’t stop.”

I groan with greater desire and eagerly comply. We build up a steady rhythm, and the mattress begins creaking under us from the strain on the springs. Our breathing turns sharp and ragged with each satisfying thrust.

And  _satisfying_  is the only word for it. To be connected this way - as two halves of one whole person - is a sensation I doubt many others could ever experience in their lives. Kinsoo was truly made for me, and I for her. We belong together like this.

“Faster now, Tae,” she begs me.

I grunt and drop my head into the crook of her neck as I obey. She starts moaning louder when I start bucking into her wildly. The walls of her pussy are very slick now, and they repeatedly squeeze around my pistoning cock, driving me crazy.

“Kiki, I-I’m gonna… F- _fuck_ , I’m g-gonna cum soon,” I warn.

“Do it, Tae. I want to feel it, I want to feel all of you,” she pants encouragingly.

With two more heaves and a high-pitched whine against her collarbone, I let go. She hugs all four of her limbs around me to keep me lodged as deep as I can be while I discharge shot after shot of my sperm into her clenching core.

My arms shake and give out as I come down from my dizzying high, and I slump onto Kinsoo’s sweaty body. She doesn’t mind my weight, though; she welcomes it by hugging my head to her chest again and kissing the top of it.

“I love you, Taehyung,” she murmurs into my hair. “Probably more than you’ll ever know.”

I let out a soft breath of laughter. “If it’s anything like the way I love  _you_ , I think I at least have an idea.”

She giggles girlishly, and my softening dick twitches one last time as it slips out of her.

We redress and return to the basement hand-in-hand to finish dealing with our father once and for all.

With scrupulous yellow eyes, the orange tabby cat watches from the window.

 

* * *

 

Copyright © 2018-2019 ditzymax. All rights reserved.


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